


before the end of the night

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Fluff and Angst, that one world where eleanor and tahani were soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:38:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: I’ll tell her, she decides.I’ll tell her after the party. After the clock strikes twelve, after the guests went home and it was just them again, Eleanor and the stupid fairytale princess in this stupid fairytale castle built for someone else’s stupid happily ever after.





	before the end of the night

  
Tahani has such pretty hair. Everything about her is irritatingly, improbably pretty, but in Eleanor’s learned opinion her hair is really high on the list. It’s long, with natural waves that fall to the small of her back, and so smooth that Eleanor’s fingers slip and slide even as she tries to grasp the strands.

“And - just a little bit - _there_. All done.”

Tahani smiles eagerly as Eleanor tightens the last clip. She catches a quick glimpse of Tahani’s dimples reflecting in her huge vanity as she twist her head this way and that.

“Oh, Eleanor,” she sighs. “It’s _lovely_. Nicky Clarke couldn’t have done it better.”

Eleanor almost asks who that is, but decides against it. She leans back, considers the end result of many painful hours - alright, almost a hour - of work. Tahani isn’t wrong, and it makes pride swell in her chest, makes her puff up and stand taller. _Still got the magic touch, Shellstrope._

Lovely isn’t a word in her vocabulary, but she has to admit that it fits Tahani pretty well, right here and right now. The late afternoon light spills from the window of Tahani’s bedroom, catching the clever twists and pattern of braids just so. It’s not surprising that Tahani’s personal concept of heaven includes a two-feet tall mahogany vanity with access perfect lighting at all times.

“Well, not to brag,” Eleanor says, bragging, “but I was the best hairdresser at Molly’s Salon for two years running. Best job I ever had.”

“You’re really quite good at it,” Tahani compliments, fingers hovering over the strands falling artfully over her ridiculous cheekbones. She turns around just enough that her reflection can meet Eleanor’s eyes. “Why did you stop?”

Eleanor has a split second of internal debate before deciding that sharing the episode where she went at a work colleague with a pair of scissors and a hair blower was not a good move for her cover as a legitimate Good Place resident. Forking Denise and her forking excuses for her missed shifts. So what if her uncle had cancer and she had to take care of her little cousins and their pack of rescued mutts? Eleanor actually had a social life to worry about.

In hindsight, it was things like that that had put Eleanor in this situation.

“Oh, no reason. Got bored of washing old ladies’ scalps and dealing with evil brides.” She chortles, remembering a few of her old costumers. “Some of them are definitely going to the Bad Place.”

She claps her hands. There was always a sure way to wash that inquiring expression from Tahani’s face. “So! Hair’s done. What are you going to wear for your paar-tay?”

Predictably, Tahani lit up. “I was thinking about that long green gown, the one that matches the cream evening gloves perfectly. But I do so love the purple one with the lace cuffs. Really, it’s a terrible conundrum.”

“Mhm,” Eleanor says, distracted. She’s thinking of Tahani’s cream evening gloves. Specifically, of taking off Tahani’s cream gloves with her teeth. Baring those surprisingly toned arms, kissing her way up – “The green one, for sure.”

Tahani gets up with a spring, silk house robe flapping around her legs like a cloud, heading towards the walk in closet. She’s speaking about accessories and last minute details which are really three-hours-before-the-part-deatails, because Tahani might be a lot of things but she’s brilliant at organizing stuff.

Eleanor answers as needed, defends herself from accusations - _look, it’s totally not my fault, you have more creams than a Sephora, how was I supposed to know that one was hair conditioning, I thought it was some kind of skin goop. Anyway, you were the one saying you didn’t want to have a soulmate with crusty dry-skinned hands, and you’ve got to admit it worked -_ or rolling her eyes as needed. It’s her turn to recline in front of the vanity, the three mirrors covering each possible angle useful for brushing her own hand. 

She thinks she’s been keeping up a good façade (new word, Tahani’s at fault, or was it Chidi? Eleanor had never thought Heaven would have so many people bit- _benching_ about some supposed need to expand her vocabulary), up until Tahani steps close. Closer enough Eleanor can smell her perfume, violets and magnolia, something light but heady, no doubt ridiculously expensive if the Good Place involved actual currency. She clasps Eleanor’s hands in hers, soulful eyes staring at her. Eleanor’s stomach decides to take this moment to do something that would probably put it running for the athletics Olympics. 

“I haven’t thanked you before for your help. I know it’s a little silly, what with us being dead, and Michael says that the space-time continuum in the neighborhoods in less of a reality and more of a construct -“

“Yeah, that was one creepy explanation,” Eleanor agrees, nodding at Tahani’s bemused frown. “Dude could at least pretend he doesn’t think humans needing to experience one thing at a time is funny.”

“– but I always loved to celebrate the New Year. And I sincerely feel like there is so much to celebrate since we came to the Good Place. Eleanor,” she says, features cast in a grave light. “When I was alive, I never would have guessed someone like you would be my soulmate,” and ouch, that almost hurt. But not much, not when Tahani is looking at her like that, looking down at her like Eleanor is the sun, like she _matters_. “But I am so, so glad you are.”

Eleanor opens her mouth. Closes it, and narrows her eyes. She wants to say, _Ditto_ , or, _So am I_. What she should say, what Chidi would tell her to say is _I need to be honest with you, I’m not really your soulmate,_ or even  _I think Micharl has made a big forking mistake._

She’s selfish. What’s new about that? Eleanor Shellstrope, everyone: despicable human being.

A despicable human being in love. She grasps Tahani’s hands right back.

 _I’ll tell her_ , she decides. _I’ll tell her after the party._ After the clock strikes twelve, after the guests went home and it was just them again, Eleanor and the stupid fairytale princess in this stupid fairytale castle built for someone else’s stupid happily ever after. 

“Do you think it jinxes the New Year if we kiss too early?” She asks.

“I couldn’t possibly are less right now,” Tahani says, breathless and flushes and so so close. And she has to lean down for their mouths to meet, and Eleanor needs to stand on her tiptoes, and the light is still like something of a Joe Wright movie, and Tahani’s hair is going to need to be rebraided, but Tahani just said she doesn’t care. Right now, Eleanor doesn’t either.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://searchingforserendipity25.tumblr.com).


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